


living in the mess we made

by beware_of_you



Series: 200 [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Emily is stubborn, F/F, Heavy Angst, I didn't flush 13 years of character development down the toilet, JJ is Hopelessly In Love, Luke is the ultimate friend to everyone, Referenced Sexual Assault, Reid is an angel, Rossi is sick of their bs, Slow Burn, Useless Gays, because honestly would you guys expect any less of me, brief mentions of willxjj but that hetero nonsense isnt important, but cowards, emilyxjj should have been endgame, her feelings towards Emily?? very much gay, her relationship with Reid strained?? not even a little bit, it makes more sense to me than the actual canon, jj's character ruined?? not in this fic, sorry will but also not really, sorta - Freeform, trigger warning for attempted sexual assault in chapter 3, will?? out of the picture, yes I'm touching on their ptsd, yes dr chambers is the same donna chambers from ahs, yes i mix my fandoms what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_you/pseuds/beware_of_you
Summary: sequel to 200alternate title: if 14x15 has to exist, then it's going to exist on my terms god dammit
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss
Series: 200 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798711
Comments: 23
Kudos: 171





	1. i.

It was another case, because, of course, their job as FBI agents was never done. There was _always_ another case, one right after another.

This case took the team to Spokane, Washington where the bodies of four women were found in the depths of the forest. Each was in a different stage of decomposition; the most recent woman had only been dead for a little over a week while the first victim looked to have been dead for over a year. There were no signs of sexual assault, but all women had been abducted, starved and then strangled when the women proved too weak to fight back.

To top it all off, another woman, Marcy Duncan, had failed to show up to her apartment after her shift at a local diner. Her roommate had notified the police when she woke up in the morning and noticed Marcy hadn't come home.

Even if the unsub had kept his previous victims for a while, the team didn't want to take any chances with Marcy's life, and immediately went to work.

It didn't take too long for the pieces to start falling together.

Reid had pointed out the tiny puncture wound at the base of the victims' necks while he and Lewis were at the coroner's, suggesting that they were drugged before they were abducted. The man was not physically able to restrain his victims, but was strong enough to take them out into the forest to get rid of the bodies. He was an opportunistic killer, as he seemed to have no age or race preference to his victims other than the sex.

Simmons gathered that he had to be local in order to know where he would have the most time with the bodies, where he knew he would come and go unnoticed. He had to have access to a quick acting anesthetic to render his victims helpless. He most likely lived alone so that he had plenty of time with his victims.

Rossi and Alvez had stressed to the local police department that the man would be exceedingly plain, unassuming. He wasn't the type of man that would get attention drawn to himself, positive or otherwise. Mid twenties to early thirties, white, small in stature, plain, local, someone people would normally pass over in life. Worked at home, possibly as a specialized veterinarian or doctor so that the anesthetic would be on hand at all times.

It took the team less than a day after delivering their initial profile to come up with their potential suspects: a 27 old man named Thomas Norman, a man that specialized in treating animals from the wildlife rehabilitation center, a 33 year old veterinarian named Hank Webble, and a 28 year old recluse named Bobby Mackle, a nursing student who had been arrested a few years ago and charged with possession of several known date rape drugs and other pharmaceuticals.

The BAU team had split up into small groups to investigate the three men: Rossi and Simmons to Mackle, Lewis, Alvez and Reid to Webble while JJ and Emily took to investigate Norman.

They were just going to ask questions, possibly bring in the men if they had enough probable cause.

But things had gone wrong, oh so terribly _wrong_.

The car ride with Emily was silent, awkward as it had been with her since the team had saved her from Peter Lewis' clutches a few weeks ago. JJ so desperately wants to speak out about it, to pry into what happened because she can't stand the horrible tension that had grown between them much longer, but she holds her tongue.

They had to focus on Marcy Duncan, on saving her and putting this man behind bars.

Thomas Norman's house was smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere. The GPS had trouble halfway up the mountains and, had it not been for the obvious tire treads in the long grass, JJ would have gotten lost because their cells had no service this deep into the forest. The man's car was parked in front of the house, but their knocks had produced no answer.

In fact, when Emily knocked, the door had swung open, both agents' hands immediately falling to their guns at their sides. They shared a quick look before Emily peers her head inside the house.

"Thomas Norman? FBI! We're just here to ask you a couple of questions!" the older agent calls out, hand on the door as she creaks it open.

"It'd be nice if you would cooperate with us," she mutters to herself before repeating her statement a little bit louder.

They wait a few minutes in silence, waiting for Thomas to make an appearance.

He never does.

Emily calls out a few more times, suspicion slowly creeping up on the two agents. Emily's just through the threshold of the door, palm flat against the wall as JJ steps beside her. "Mr. Norman?"

They both startle, both their hands falling once more to the holsters on their hips when they hear a noise coming from inside the house. A feminine voice, though neither can make out what she says. Slowly guns are drawn from their holsters, both women sharing a look.

"I got upstairs if you got this floor?" Emily breathes out towards JJ, stepping aside just so she can peer up the long stair case.

"Yep," JJ confirms just as quietly as she carefully goes deeper into the house.

She listens as Emily's light footsteps make their way slowly upstairs before  
they fade away. Puffing out a breath, she focuses back on the room in front of her. It's dark, dark enough for her to flip on her flashlight. She brings it up by her gun, the only sounds she now hears is her own footsteps, her own breathing.

The room is exceedingly ordinary and plain: simple furniture, beige colored walls, plain tan carpet. The only thing that really sticks out to her is how dusty the room is. It's not a recently lived in room and looks like it hasn't been occupied in a long time.

"Mr. Norman?" she asks cautiously, stifling a gasp when she hears the same feminine voice from earlier, more clearly to her left.

She pivots on the ball of her foot towards that direction, heart pounding as it always does in these situations. She's on high alert, poised and ready for anything. Her forehead and cheeks are starting to dampen with sweat; it's unbearably hot in the house. "Thomas Norman?"

Another voice, this time she can clearly make out the word _help_ coming from behind a door. She quickly faces the door, gun drawn on it. The voice had definitely come from there. Cracked, hoarse and barely audible, but still there.

Briefly dropping her gun, she leans into the mic attached to her collar. "I got something," she murmurs into the small device to Emily. She waits a few seconds and when she hears nothing in response from the older agent, but instead another hopeless whimper from the other side of the door, she makes her decision.

She opens the door carefully, her gun and flashlight flying across the room as she looks in. Reflected back at her is a scared looking woman bound in ropes, the desperate plea at her lips when she spots JJ. Looking around once more at the room bare of anything except the captive woman, the blonde holsters her gun. She kneels down, quietly shushing the woman as she starts undoing her bindings.

"It's okay, it's okay," JJ croons soothingly. "Marcy Duncan?" When the frightened woman nods frantically, cheeks stained with tears, the blonde lays a reassuring hand on the woman's arm. "It's okay. My name's Jennifer, I'm with the FBI," she murmurs quietly. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"Is he gone? Are you alone?" Marcy asks in a rushed whisper, rubbing her wrists once she's free of the ropes.

"I don't know," JJ admits. "I don't know where he is. My partner is upstairs looking for him. Can you stand?" Her arms are ready to catch the woman if she sways. But Marcy stands easily, her clothes loose around her frame.

JJ slowly drops her arm, whispering into her mic again, "Emily, I have Marcy Duncan. No sign of Norman."

It worries her when Emily doesn't answer her again; no matter how weird things had been between them in the previous weeks, Emily _always_ answered her mic.

Something was wrong.

This rescue had seemed almost too easy, like Thomas Norman had surrendered and given up.

They hadn't profiled him to be the type.

In fact, nothing here seemed to fit what they had profiled other than the location. Where was the medical equipment, the animals? At least some would be nearby, right?

Why was the house in such disarray? Certainly if Norman operated here, JJ would expect the place to look a bit more organized. They may have profiled him to be exceedingly ordinary, extremely opportunistic, but one thing the younger agent knows for certain is that Thomas Norman isn't messy. He would never allow himself to be. It's why he hadn't been caught so far. He would never leave a victim... out... in the open...

An observation hits her so hard, so suddenly, she nearly stumbles when she realizes it. She catches herself on the door's frame, hand tightening on her gun as it dawns on her.

Why... was Marcy Duncan tied in ropes when none of the other victims had bruises or marks from bindings?

Her head snaps up when she hears Emily yell something from upstairs, a bang that shakes the whole house.

"Emily!" JJ calls out, heart dropping at the sounds of struggling from upstairs, nearly vomiting when she hears an all too familiar cry of pain. "Emi—"

That's when she feels the prick on her neck.

She lets out a noise of surprise, stumbling away from the source of discomfort. She's already feeling dizzy, the drugs working quickly in her system. "Wha...?" she murmurs in confusion, hand cupping the back of her neck as she turns and faces Marcy.

Through bleary vision, she manages to see Marcy standing there with an empty needle.

They had never even considered that Thomas Norman had a partner, it never fit the profile. At least, not until now. And here Marcy Duncan is, standing over her with a cold, calculating smirk.

Not a partner, but a willing participant.

Not a follower, but the one calling the shots.

The instigator.

The dominant.

The mastermind behind everything.

The _actual_ unsub.

Her gun clatters to the floor as she slumps down against the door, her mind swirling with a million thoughts as she struggles against the effects of the drugs. Just before she completely goes under, she sees Thomas dragging a limp Emily into the room by her arms.

A soft moan falls from the brunette's lips.

JJ can't really tell in this light, can barely comprehend much with the world spinning like this, but she's almost certain that Emily's bleeding.

Marcy Duncan catches her eyes once more, shooting the younger agent a wink with another sinister smirk.

The world goes black.


	2. ii.

Her head is _pounding,_ the side of her neck sore, her muscles stiff and achy, her cheek pressed against the cold, hard ground. She tries to open her eyes but immediately snaps them shut when she's blinded by the bright, white light hanging from the ceiling. Her hands clench slowly into fists against the ground, a low moan of discomfort falling from her lips at even that tiny movement.

She brings her hand to her neck, slowly and gently rubbing the irritated area as she forces her eyes open once more. Blinking a few times, she finally manages to get used to the piercing, invasive light in the room. The floor beneath her body is white linoleum like one would find in the hospital, bright and squeaky clean with the sharp scent of disinfectant. The wall a few feet from her face is the same bright white that's broken up by the divots between each and every stone.

Blinking hard, she slowly brings her hands to her sides, palms splayed on the ground as she shakily lifts herself up. She almost stumbles back down the first time—the speed at which she had tried to pick herself up sends the room spinning like the merry-go-round at the mall Michael loves so much.

Slowly, but surely, JJ manages to right herself on her hands and knees, forcing herself to take deep, controlled breaths to keep the dizziness at bay. She slides back on her behind, leaning her head back against the stone wall and pressing her palms into her eyes as she tries to remember what happened, how she got here.

She remembers bits and pieces of the case... four murdered women, starved and strangled and buried in the thick woodland of Washington state.

Marcy Duncan... Marcy Duncan who stabbed her with a needle. Who injected some form of anesthesia into her bloodstream.

The unsub, Marcy Duncan.

JJ didn't even realize until she saw the needle in the woman's hand, until she saw Thomas Norman drag in Emily's unconscious body.

_Emily._

JJ sits up so suddenly she stumbles, her entire body aching at the sudden movement. She has to swallow hard, breathe through her nose to quell the nausea she feels as everything spins around her. But she soldiers through, using the grooves in the wall to ground herself to reality.

Feeling much like a baby deer, she slowly makes it to her feet, collapsing almost as soon as she puts weight on her legs. Her palms splay out, catching herself before she smacks her chin into the floor. Wincing at the impact on her knees, on her wrists, she shakily exhales at the jolt of pain that shoots up her right arm as soon as she starts to crawl. She gives up moving for the time being, pushing her long hair out of her face to really look around at her surroundings.

The walls of the tiny room are all white, floor covered in linoleum and walls made of white stone. There's a door across from her, but there's no handle or knob facing in the room, no lock to pick, not even a crack between the frame and the wall. The door seems snug into place, as if it were something hidden from any wondering eyes.

There's a hole that might have once been a window that's about the size of her fist, just big enough to allow natural sunlight through. She can see thick, green foliage out the small opening. As she listens closely, she can make out the sound of a raging river very nearby, loud enough to drown out any victims' cries for help. _Smart_ , she thinks bitterly, sarcastically as she looks around the room once more.

There's no furniture, much like the room Marcy had been in before she tricked the agent. Well, unless she counted the single, thin sheet crumpled in the corner of the room as "furniture" (she didn't). There's a light overhead, swinging by a wire covered in at least four inches of rubber coating. A grate in the middle of the floor like in operating rooms.

She's been disarmed. Her emptied holster had been digging uncomfortably into her side while she had been on the floor. The mic that had been clipped onto her shirt, along with the receiver plugged into her ear, is gone. She doesn't have her ID and badge, her wallet, and after a quick double check of her pockets, she's also missing her cell phone.

Nearly jumping back, JJ startles when she turns to her side and sees Emily laying less that three feet away from her. Her heart sinks at all the blood pooled around her, at the sticky, dark liquid that's starting to coagulate against the gash across her head.

Ignoring her own pain, JJ quickly moves over to the brunette, tears springing to her eyes at the sight. Shakily, she brings two fingers to the pulse point on the older woman's neck, a soft sob of relief falling from her lips when she feels steady beating underneath her fingertips.

"Emily... Emily," she sniffs, resting her hand against the older woman's shoulder. When she doesn't respond to this, JJ bites her lip with another sniffle. Her hand is shaking, trembling as she brushes it back carefully through tangled raven tresses. It's the same touch Emily—really, Mateo Cruz— used on her all those years ago during her hallucination. But the touch, so _vividly_ hearing that soothing voice, seeing those warm chocolate brown eyes filled with so much concern kept her _sane_ enough to hold on _just a bit longer_.

She can only hope her touch is enough to wake the unconscious agent.

Emily stirs with a groan, eyes opening slightly. She flinches, exhaling with a soft moan before weakly bringing up her hand to block out the bright light. She blinks heavily, pupils dilating as she comes to.

For a split second, JJ's heart flutters because, as soon as the older woman looks over at her, she has that same softness in her eyes that's _always_ been directed at the blonde, _only ever directed at her_.

It's gone almost as soon as it appears. There's something akin to apprehension before the infamous Prentiss walls go up, locking everyone in the world outside from her emotions and thoughts.

Groaning slightly, Emily brushes JJ's hand away, propping herself up on her elbow. "JJ?"

Trying not to show just how much her actions _stung_ , JJ forces herself to swallow hard and keep the hurt from showing on her face. She cradles her wrist; now that she's more clear in the head, she judges that it might possibly be sprained. "Yeah, it's me," she murmurs quietly. "Stay down. You're bleeding."

"I am?" Emily frowns in confusion, lifting a hand up to the laceration above her eyebrow and wincing when her fingers make contact with the sticky, drying blood. "Fuck," she swears quietly, pulling her hand away from the cut with a sharp inhale.

JJ tucks her arms into her shirt sleeves, wincing as she takes off the tank top she wears under her clothes. Carefully, she brings the balled up piece of clothing out her left sleeve. She gently uses a corner of the material to dab at the stained skin a few inches from the wound. "I think it'll need stitches," she finally murmurs.

Emily winces, carefully taking the shirt from JJ's hands before directly pressing it on the gash. "Probably," she agrees, laying back flat on the ground. "Bastard caught me by surprise and then knocked me out with my own gun."

Sitting with her knees up to her chest, JJ rests her chin on the tops of them. "Em, it's Marcy," she murmurs. "The unsub."

The frown on Emily's face deepens. "What? She was a victim..."

The blonde slightly shakes her head, lifting her hair and tilting her head to the side to reveal the small bruise at the base of her neck where she was stabbed with the needle. "We profiled the partner. There was never any evidence to suggest that the unsub was a woman, or that we were dealing with a team."

"It makes sense now, doesn't it?" Emily murmurs, sighing quietly and looking annoyed with herself. "You have one that leads in the victims, one that does the torture and the killing. Norman didn't even face me head on like the profile would suggest he would. Of course he wouldn't have killed those women."

JJ stays quiet for a few moments. "There's no way we could have known," she insists softly. "Not until now. The team will figure it out if they haven't already. They'll know that things aren't adding up and put the pieces together. Especially if we don't show up."

Emily sighs out softly, expression softening. "I know," she whispers, wincing as she presses the balled up tank top against the wound as blood starts to flow again. She swears under her breath.

JJ reaches out towards her, eyes shining with concern. "Let me—"

Emily tenses at the movement, waving off the blonde's concern with a firm, "No. It's fine, I got it."

JJ flinches as if she's been burned with an open flame.

Both their heads snap towards the door when it suddenly swings open, Marcy Duncan marching in with purpose with one of their guns in her grasp. Almost immediately, both agents freeze, the blonde hovering protectively over Emily as she tries to sit up.

"Ah, ah, ah," Marcy clicks in a singsong voice, aiming the gun directly at Emily's head. "I don't think so," she smiles sweetly. "Blondie," she clicks with her tongue, waving the gun in JJ's direction before gesturing towards the opposite wall. "Over there. Now. Try anything and she's dead."

"Okay," JJ murmurs, palms up in surrender. Without taking her eyes off Marcy, she slowly crawls back until she hits the wall, slowly sinking down onto the floor. She's been in enough of this situations before to know she needs to keep a clear head, but she's fucking _terrified_. Seeing a gun drawn on Emily, knowing that one single slip of Marcy Duncan's fingers can end her life in a second almost makes her want to plead, to _beg_ for no harm to come on the older agent.

But she keeps her mouth shut.

"And you," Marcy says, turning to Emily with that same sickly sweet smile. "Tommy's gonna come in here and get your little booboo all patched up. I'm not much for blood." She traces the cold metal against the older agent's jawline, ignoring her deathly glare. "Besides, it's no fun if you bleed out on me now."

She then leans in close enough for the brunette to feel her breath on her face. "I can see those wheels turning in your head there, Miss Big Shot FBI Agent. I'd highly advise against it. I've been carrying around one of these since I could walk, and I never miss. Blondie over there seems to really care about you. It'd be a real shame if I had to kill you in front of her and vice versa, so behave for Tommy, huh?"

Thomas Norman comes in the room, his head down with a first aid kit in his hands. He kneels down to Emily, opening up the white, plastic container. He ignores the brunette's steely gaze, whispering for her to move the shirt out of his way. One glance up at the deranged Marcy has her comply without any resistance.

"Remember..." Marcy taunts with a grin, pointing the gun over at JJ and making a popping sound with her mouth. She struts over to the blonde, kneeling down to her level. "You know, you _really_ shouldn't have called out for her back at the house. Quite a dumb move on your part, really."

JJ stays silent.

"How does it feel? Knowing that if you even _breathe_ the wrong way, I can kill her? I could leave you all alone and wouldn't even feel sorry about it." Marcy sighs. "But I've never had two victims at once to play with before, much less two _FBI agents_. It'd _really_ suck to have to kill either of you so quickly."

Still, JJ remains silent.

Marcy smiles. "Not much of a talker, are we Agent Jareau? Or do you prefer Jennifer?" She hums for a moment, considering. "I think... I'm the one with a gun, and I can call you whatever the hell I want." She gestures around the room with her gun. "Do you know where you are, Blondie?"

JJ remains quiet.

" _This_ is a room we don't use anymore, well, except for containing the victims, of course. It's closed off from everyone, sealed behind a locked door that only I have the key to. We used to bring rabid animals, bears and things, back here. Lock them up and gas them. You know, put them to sleep from the grate in the floor. Watch them from the safety of the security room." She points up to a corner of the room where a small camera perches. "My little buddy here will watch your every move, make sure you're both behaving yourselves."

She stands, tapping the grate with her foot as she walks away. "Don't worry about this old gas chamber. It's been out of service for _years_. I like to think I'm above such indirect methods, anyway."

Thomas finishes up with Emily, delicately wiping away the blood remaining on her head with an alcohol wipe. He just looks up at the brunette when she swats his hand away, standing up with the first aid kit silently.

Marcy laughs in delight. "Oh, I love it when they come with a little fight left in them. It never is very entertaining to play with someone so broken and defeated. Of course, things will be a _lot_ more exciting with more than one victim this time. The three of us are going to have quite a lot of fun together."

With another laugh, Marcy leaves the room. Thomas trails behind like a lost puppy, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't know why but marcy kinda reminds me of negan from the walking dead which wasn't my intention but it iz what it iz
> 
> anyway follow me on tumblr (beware-of-you-98) if u want to fangirl over these gay idiots


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's getting rly angsty up in here folks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw//implied attempted sexual assault
> 
> to skip, stop reading at: "JJ presses herself flush against the wall, eyes locked on Marcy as she slowly kneels to her level."
> 
> to continue, go to: "She turns her head when she hears the other agent shift at the opposite end of the room..."
> 
> Nothing is explicitly or graphically depicted, but the language used and there are allusions to certain scenes that happened in the episode "200" that might possibly be triggering so I wanted to give a disclaimer

A full day had past since they've been trapped in this room. Or, at least, JJ thinks it's been a full day because she watched the light through the small opening change. Neither of them slept, but she knows both of them can run on little to no sleep. It's something that they had always shared in common, even back when Gideon was still alive and lead the team.

They sit in silence, both their backs pressed against opposite walls. They sit still as statues. Their bodies are facing each other, but Emily's focused on the crumpled sheet in the corner. It's not like they have much of a choice. They have no way to escape this room, no way to communicate with the other members of the team to let them know their whereabouts. They don't even risk sitting near each other in fear of what exactly Marcy Duncan was capable of, of what harm she could bring upon the other.

Or, at least, that's what JJ tells herself instead of acknowledging the tension that seems to have only grown more between them. Emily's refusing to even look over in the blonde's direction.

JJ is, however, focused intently on the unit chief. The way her jaw clenches, the dull look in her eyes tells the younger agent that she's beating herself up over this situation, running it over again and again in her head to see what she could have done differently, how she could have protected them both.

Now that she's fully aware, JJ can tell that she had bust her lip open during her initial struggle with Thomas. The fragile skin around her eye is starting to bruise; she'll have a black eye for sure. The black stitches Thomas had threaded on her head stand out strongly against her pale skin. Her arms are folded protectively over her chest as if she were physically shielding JJ out. Her eyes unwavering in their expression, her absolute refusal to even meet the blonde's eyes guarding whatever secret lay inside her mind.

 _It's ironic_ , JJ thinks solemnly. She's the physically the closest to Emily than she has been in _weeks_ and yet she's never felt more distant from her. Emily might has well been back undercover when she had "died" at the hands of Ian Doyle. Totally unreachable even with the online scrabble games that felt like desperate attempts to assure JJ that she was still _okay._ That somewhere out there, Emily Prentiss was still _alive._

At least Emily was still talking to her back then.

Emily closing herself off from her all started after Simmons, Reid and Alvez had rescued the unit chief from Mr. Scratch. Well, not quite then. Things were completely normal between them in the hospital. Emily had even melted into the hug JJ had greeted her with, holding onto her for a long time. And, much like she had done other times before, Emily had been back at work the following Monday after she was out of the hospital and cleared to come back without missing a beat.

And _that's_ when it had started.

Emily wouldn't stay in a room alone with JJ for more than a few seconds, making an excuse up or leaving without a word. She had switched out her normal seat beside JJ at the round table with Reid. She won't directly look JJ in the eyes when they speak, _if_ they speak at all. Emily doesn't sit beside her on the couch during girl's nights, puts herself on the end of the couch by Penelope or on another piece of furniture all together. She won't even go out in the field with the blonde anymore.

In fact, the only reason they had investigated this house together in the first place was because Rossi had volunteered to take Matt with him while Tara insisted she'd take Reid and Luke with her. She swears she even saw Rossi give the unit chief a look before he followed Simmons out the door, one that silently told her to get her shit together. It seemed as if Rossi had enough of whatever was going on between the two. Quite frankly, she thinks everyone on the team had noticed Emily's behavior towards her and wanted them both to sort things out. No one in the BAU ever liked to see anyone else on the team suffering. Besides, never did run well if there was ever any tension within the team.

But they _hadn't_ talked it out, and they _haven't_ resolved whatever tension lie between them. And now they're trapped here together and can barely even look at each other.

The distance that had grown between them in the past few weeks felt like the biggest sucker punch in the gut to JJ.

She and Emily had _always_ been close, had _always_ understood each other in so little words. She was _close_ to Emily in such a different way than she was close to Reid, to Garcia. From that very first moment when the brunette agent, still new, still adapting to the BAU, had offered her hand to JJ's for stability as they waited in the waiting room for updates on Penelope after she got shot, Emily has been the younger agent's rock. She was sturdy, always so level headed and so receptive to whatever problems JJ had. If cases were hard, she would somehow _always_ end up at the brunette's hotel room door. Always, without prompting, without question, Emily would let JJ in, would so easily distract her from the dark recesses of her mind by just _being_ there.

She had dropped _everything_ over in Afghanistan when Michael Hastings had informed her the message from the bureau was from Emily without a moment's hesitation. When it came to Emily, JJ _always_ prioritized her, especially if she was in danger. Time and time again, Emily had dropped everything to save her. _That_ was something they did best. They protected each other without hesitation.

The fact that Emily seems to merely treat her like a _coworker_ now, not even a friend, fucking _hurts._

"Em..." she starts suddenly, quietly as she rests her chin on her knees.

Brown eyes flick over in her direction, still locked, still so guarded, still so _unlike_ her.

JJ's mind races with a million questions just on the tip of her tongue: _Did I do something wrong? Why are you shutting me out? What the hell happened to you in that warehouse? What did he do to make you hate me?_

Instead of all of that, her tears well up with tears. "What _happened_ to us?" she asks, voice wavering unsteadily as the question passes her lips.

Emily's head lifts up, eyes softening at the blonde's tears. "JJ—"

Stubbornly wiping at the tears that fall from her eyes, the younger agent sniffs stubbornly and shakes her head. "We used to be _so_ close, Em. You're my _best_ friend and I care so much about you, but you keep shutting me out. You've _never_ shut me out before, not like this. We used to tell each other everything. There's never been any secrets between us. And now you won't even look at me. What did _I_ do?"

For the first time in weeks, Emily looks defeated, her shoulders slumping at the younger agents words. She moves closer to JJ until there's less than a foot separating them, looking ashamed.

"Jennifer..." she starts, slowly bring her knees back to her chest. Her eyes break from JJ's, mouth opening and closing as she thinks of what to say. "It's... it's not you," she murmurs firmly, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. "It's me." As soon as the cliche line leaves her lips, she cringes, licking her lips nervously.

There's a long pause, both women refusing to look at each other.

When Emily starts again, her voice is small, so fucking quiet and _vulnerable_ it nearly _shatters_ JJ's heart. "Scratch... got deeper in my head than I would like to admit," she croaks meekly. "He... used things against me that I never have even admitted to myself. It _terrified_ me that he was able to get _that_ deep into my head and use those thoughts against me."

Wordlessly, JJ offers out her hand, just like Emily did for her that day in the hospital. She couldn't stand to see her like this, so broken and _hurt_ and not do _something_ to offer the older woman some form of comfort, some sort of assurance.

Emily grips it like a lifeline, as if the very touch of JJ's skin on hers was keeping her from completely losing it. She releases a shuddering breath when the younger woman interlocks their fingers, gives hers a reassuring squeeze. It asks what JJ can't out loud: to elaborate, to know _what_ those thoughts were that scared her so much.

Emily shakes her head, biting down on her lip to keep her own tears at bay. "I can't," she whispers, her voice cracking unsteadily, full of so much pain it _hurts_ JJ in a way words can't even describe to see her like this. "Jennifer, I _can't_... There's too much at stake and way too much to lose to ever say it out loud."

JJ opens her mouth to say something, to reach her hand out and wipe the tears that glide down Emily's cheek with her thumb, to let her know that she's _here_ and that she understands when the door swings open again.

For a brief moment, Marcy Duncan looks annoyed, jaw clenched and eyes shining with fury.

As soon as her eyes land on the two agents, the look is gone and replaced with one of faux awe. She clicks her tongue, pouting adoringly at the duo. "Aw, look at how adorable," she coos with a shark like grin, producing the gun from her side once more. "Come on, you know the drill, Blondie. Up against that wall. Chop, chop."

JJ drops her hand from Emily's like she had been electrocuted, moving up against the opposite wall within seconds. Her lips tug down apologetically at Emily across the room at the sudden abandonment.

Marcy grins, pleased at their reactions. She stands with a hand on her hip, the other twirling the gun around. "Today is your lucky day, captives."

"I've decided _not_ to starve you. I know, I know. _Complete_ change of MO," Marcy says dramatically, winking over at Emily when she uses the term. "I mean really, that's what I'm known for. It's always a lot easier to take a victim down if they're weakened."

"But," she pauses, kneeling down between them. "There's two of you. And something tells me if I go after one of you, I'll just get attacked by the other. So, I figure why should _I_ do the work, when you both could do it for me."

She lifts one finger in the air, nodding thoughtfully. "Not exactly sure what to do with you yet, but I'm playing around with a few ideas."

She runs her finger over the gun with her lips pursed in deep thought. "Maybe... I give you a little bit of food, a little bit of water, promise you more and make you both fight over it." Her head lulls towards the door, where Thomas stands with a plastic grocery bag and a single water bottle.

"Maybe I threaten one of you," she starts again, standing up and sauntering over towards JJ. "Tell you to fight the other or I'll kill them."

JJ presses herself flush against the wall, eyes locked on Marcy as she slowly kneels to her level.

"Maybe," Marcy says softly. "Maybe I'll play with you both in a much _different_ way. Assert my dominance in a more... physical way. Won't bother me any. I mean, let's not ignore the glaringly obvious here. You're both _very_ beautiful and _most definitely_ very tempting..."

JJ forces herself not to falter, not to tremble when Marcy reaches out towards her. Images of Michael Hastings' rough hands on her body flash through her head when Marcy's cold hand travels down to the hem of her pants. She has to close her eyes, bite her lip and, still, a small, choked sob falls past her lips when Marcy pops the button of her pants open, the fabric falling slack.

She turns her head when she hears the other agent shift at the opposite end of the room, easily bringing the gun up against JJ's temple, arm wrapped firmly around her neck. "Ah, ah, ah," Marcy tsks at Emily, gesturing to the floor as JJ gasps in her hold. "Come on, Emily, you know better," she grins, only dropping the gun and her arm when the brunette slowly sinks back down on the ground.

JJ holds her throat with one hand, wheezing as she attempts to control her breathing once more.

"Keep your hands off of her," Emily says lowly, glaring at Marcy. "If you touch her again, I'll kill you. I can promise you that."

Marcy cocks her head with a smile, clicking her tongue in disappointment at JJ as she pulls away. "Aw, would you listen to that, Blondie? Agent Prentiss cares about you," she coos.

JJ flinches when the woman pats her cheek.

Marcy stands with a chuckle, shaking her head in disappointment. "You both have _really_ got to stop being so protective of each other. When will you understand that it's only doing you more harm than good?" Just before the door shuts again, the bottle of water bounces inside of the room.

Neither woman makes a move to go and grab it.


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tbh this chapter is just full of fluff which is why I'm not waiting too long to post it and i kinda debated whether or not to even keep it in but in the end I think it's interesting to see where jj's thoughts drift to when she's left alone to her own devices and there is 1 (one) moment that's cute and hopefully it'll make up for the complete and utter shit storm that is chapter 5 [it won't]

Thunder cracks loudly from outside the room, a bright flash of lightning lighting up the small hole in the wall with a brilliant white light before the night swallows it up once more. A steady stream of water trickles down the wall, draining down into the grate. JJ's hands are still damp from cupping them flush against the wall, trapping the rain water in her palms and drinking readily from them—neither woman trusted the bottle that remains untouched in the corner where the sheets had been.

Really, the rain was a blessing. Both knew they could last longer without food, but without water, dehydration would creep up on them quickly. And, while rain water was less than an ideal drinking source, it certainly seemed better than the alternative.

Emily had finally given into her exhaustion and was curled up on the floor beside the blonde, using the balled up sheet as a pillow of sorts. She'd asked the younger agent to wake her in about two hours, or as close to that as she can judge, and they'll switch off so that she can get some sleep. JJ figures once they both have some rest, she'll empty the water bottle and fill it from the stream flowing down the wall so that they'll have some access to water if the weather changes. She's in no rush to do that task now. The storm outside is fierce, unrelenting, and she doubts it's going to stop any time soon.

Instead of being productive, she lets her mind wonder.

She's starting to feel like this is a common occurrence in the BAU, being kidnapped or held captive by unsubs. It's certainly not in the job description, nor is it something that's to be expected. Yet it's something that's happened to the every person in the unit at least once.

She wonders if what they do makes them such prime targets. They put themselves in the minds of the very people they're chasing. Wouldn't they know better than anyone what these monster felt? How they acted and why? How they thought and _why_? The thought that the BAU knew how the unsubs acted and _why_ had certainly been appealing to unsubs in the past.

She doesn't think Marcy cares. The team had never considered her a suspect. Certainly not until she and Emily had failed to report back to the precinct. They don't know yet why she operates the way she does. Maybe it's just as simple as she likes to do it. She likes playing these mind games with her victims, taunting them and breaking them down until they don't have the strength to fight anymore.

No, Marcy Duncan doesn't give a shit what she and Emily could tell her about her behavior. All she cares about is that she has two FBI agents as prisoners and that she gets the pleasure of breaking them. JJ knows she'll do it, too. Eventually. They are, after all, only human and their training only prepares them for so much. They'd outlast all her other victims, but by how long, JJ's uncertain. It's a gut wrenching thought, enough to make her feel nauseous.

She stops thinking about it.

She wonders where the team would fall on the list of statistics of kidnapping victims. If Reid weren't the one that has been a victim of these circumstances more times than she can count on both hands, JJ would ask him. He most likely knows. It's how he rationalizes these things, how he copes. Maybe it's a huge reason why he stays on the team instead of teaching at the local university full time.

Or maybe it's just Reid's unyielding dedication to the unit and the people that make up the team that keeps him here. It's why Emily keeps finding herself back with them, why Rossi won't fully retire, why Garcia won't transfer to cyber security. She knows it's why she stays, why she's long past stopped trying to rationalize why she stays with the BAU despite the unspoken risks involved.

It's also times like this that she's almost relieved she doesn't carry any pictures of her kids in her wallet, has no photos of them saved on her phone. The team had found out the hard way just how involved an unsub could get into their personal lives, how they could use loved ones against them.

She had personally witnessed Aaron Hotchner fall victim to this type of unsub _twice._ Once with George Foyett, who was so involved it cost Hotch the loss of his ex-wife, Haley, and cost _her_ her life. And then it had nearly happened again with his son, Jack, when Peter Lewis spent nearly two years tormenting the former agent to the point where they both went into witness protection. They had only just recently been released.

Hotch hadn't come back.

From what she understands, Hotch is happy and content with being a stay at home dad, focusing all of his attention on Jack instead of the monsters in society. She's happy for him.

Her thoughts drift to her own boys.

It would have been the start of her week with the kids yesterday. She wonders what Will told them when she had failed to show to pick them up from his house. What did he tell her boys when the day had drifted into night? When they had undoubtedly waited patiently on the stairs for hours with their bags packed and ready to spend time with their mother for the week? Would his words have comforted them? Answered their concerned questions and offered her boys some semblance of relief?

_Her_ _boys_.

Henry, an almost exact carbon copy of herself with his long, bright, ever so slightly curled blonde hair that flows past his shoulders and his bright baby blues. He was a quiet kid, but does amazingly well in school. With the help he gets from his Uncle Spence, he made it on the school's competitive academic team. He's even the star player on the school's soccer team and, according to his coach, the local high school's coach had been eyeing the twelve year old for a spot on their varsity team when he graduates from the middle school next summer.

Michael has much shorter, much darker and much straighter hair that resembles his father's so much. He has her bright blue eyes, but undoubtedly the rest of her youngest is an exact replica of Will. He's more energetic, more out going in his preschool. He's a sports kid through and through, his schedule filled with tee ball, soccer and flag football practices. He even takes karate lessons down at the rec center.

Their personalities are polar opposites. Henry is the more sensitive one, always thinking of others before himself. Even when he was Michael's age, he was always more thoughtful of the people around him. His compassion is something that brings tears to her eyes. He _always_ wants to see the good in everyone.

Michael is more reserved, much more cautious and intuitive about people than his older brother. Even when he was just a baby, he seemed to possess the ability to know when something was off about a person. It's like he was born with the knowledge of how the world really worked, about how not _everyone_ is good. It's such mature thinking for a toddler that some days JJ yearns to just wrap him up in a bubble of innocence, if only for just a few moments.

She knows Henry _really_ knows what she does at work, knows how deeply she is involved with catching the bad guys, knows the dangers she puts herself into. Her eldest is _not_ stupid. If she doesn't show up at Will's place, or call their dad to let him know that she has to stay on a case just a bit longer, Henry will know that something must have happened to her. With a mind wise beyond his years, it wouldn't take Michael too long to figure out that something had gone wrong either.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Statistics," she replies automatically without as much as glancing in Emily's direction. "Why we always seemingly end up in these situations."

It's a cop out and they both know it. How many times had Emily used the same diversion technique on the team when Ian Doyle was creeping his way back into her life all those years ago? Of course she would see that JJ was lying straight through her teeth. At the very least, she wasn't telling the whole truth.

JJ's shoulders slump, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Emily was talking with her again, wasn't she? She could always trust Emily with the dark thoughts that plague her mind. Why start building up her walls now when she had just gotten her best friend back after weeks of receiving the cold shoulder?

She faces away from the camera in the corner of the room, looks down at the grate in the ground. Her nail traces the lines in the linoleum. When she speaks again, it's barely a whisper. "I'm just...wondering what Will told the boys when I didn't call or pick them up for the week," she admits. "They'll both think...." She folds her arms across her stomach when it clenches painfully, bites her lip hard.

Emily pushes herself until she's sitting up next to JJ, hand gripping the sheet. She leans her head back against the wall, exhaling slowly. "He'll tell them... that you're working really hard to catch the bad guys," she starts softly. "That you're the toughest son of a bitch he knows and that nothing will stop you from making it home to them."

"How can he guarantee that?" JJ mutters softly, frowning uncertainty down at the ground. "How can you?"

"Because if he knows you the way I do, he'll know that you're not a quitter," Emily says, glancing briefly over at the blonde before watching the stream from the window empty out in the grate. "That you won't give up without a fight. That you have two boys back home that keep you going. That you wouldn't give up hope of seeing them again and neither should they."

JJ glances over at the brunette, eyes falling to the same place hers do. The water swirls around the grate, creating a small vortex as water is drained. "I just... I don't want them to worry and think the worst happened."

"I know," Emily murmurs, laying a hand briefly on her shoulder as a reassurance. She sets the balled up sheet in the blonde's hands softly. "Here. Get some sleep. You need it."

"You didn't sleep for nearly two hours," JJ immediately refuses, trying to hand the sheet back. "You need rest, too."

"I'll be okay," Emily insists. "Besides, I don't think I should be sleeping too much without getting this concussion checked out." At the blonde's hesitation, she smiles slightly. "Hey, really, it's okay. If the room starts to flood or something as equally exciting happens, I'll wake you up."

"Fine," JJ relents, laying the sheet and then herself down on the ground. Her eyes feel heavy as soon as her head hits the balled up fabric. She hadn't realized just how truly exhausted she must be. "Drink some more water," she mutters to Emily before her eyes fall shut.

"You got it, boss," she hears the older woman respond softly, almost playfully. It brings a slight, amused smile to her own face.

Before she's completely dragged into unconsciousness, she swears she feels Emily gently tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's getting wildTM up in here 
> 
> once again luke is the best

JJ barely has the time to scoot herself across the room to the opposite wall when Marcy storms into the room. The girl looks pissed, which give both agents some sort of hope. It means things are slipping, that maybe the team is close to coming to their rescue. Of course, it would all be a bit more reassuring if Marcy wasn't holding a very loaded, very deadly weapon in her hands.

Marcy lets out a frustrated yell, slamming her palm off the stone wall. Both agents subtly wince at the sudden action, at the loud slap that echoes throughout the room. The deranged woman runs a hand through wild, untamed brown locks, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

Thomas Norman stands silently in the doorway.

When Marcy spots both woman separated from each other, she seems to compose herself with a grin. "Well, would you look at that. Already know the drill. It's enough to warm my heart, really it is," she exaggerates, placing the hand not holding the gun to her heart. It's not one of the agent's, instead a revolver. "But, you know, better you to do what you're supposed to than get shot."

She kneels down in the middle of the two. "Sorry for keeping you ladies waiting for a few days. You know how it is, life and all of that gets in the way." She clasps her hands together, shrugging to her right. "Things didn't exactly pan out the way I expected them to. The meth head that got busted a few years ago? Totally expected him to be a scapegoat, but the rest of your team is a lot smarter than I originally thought."

She lifts her palms in the air. "Minor setback, really. Though, Tommy seems to be off their radar. Still can't believe you guys ever considered him as a suspect." She smirks over at Emily. "You got up close and personal with him when he fixed your head, huh? He seem like the type of guy with enough intelligence to kidnap someone, let alone get away with four murders? You just got unlucky you spooked him back at the house."

"I watched back the security footage and I have got to say, it has been a _real_ snooze fest in here," Marcy tsks. "Most entertaining part of it was watching you two get rain water with the bottle Tommy must have tossed in." She waves the gun between them both with a nod. "Smart move. I wouldn't have trusted what I gave you either. For all you know, I could be real fucked up and gave you acid to drink."

She sighs as she pops the chamber to the revolver, snapping it back into place thoughtfully before doing it again. "I really thought it would be more interesting with two people this time around, that the entertainment would just... happen on it's own. But it seems as if I gotta give you both a little push."

She reaches into her pocket, the bullets clinking around in her palm. She pushes the chamber of the revolver out once more. "Agent Prentiss, you seem to care for Blondie over here a whole lot," she starts conversationally, loading a single bullet into the chamber. "It _was_ pretty ballsy of you to try and fight me the other day to protect her." She pauses to grin over at Emily, pointing at her playfully. "Stupid, but very ballsy. It got me thinking about just how _much_ you care for her and if it's a two way street. Don't get me wrong, it's obvious that she must care a little bit. Freaked out back at the house when you spooked Tommy. But I'm not all that convinced she cares _nearly_ as much as you. It _has_ been you that's comforted her this entire time, Emily."

Marcy dramatically spins the chamber and snaps the chamber shut, putting the other bullets back in her pocket. "What exactly is she willing to do to save you?" she grins, slowly making her way over towards JJ.

"We're gonna play a little game here, Blondie." She bobs the gun in her hand towards the blonde playfully. "You saw me load this thing up. You know there's a single bullet in here. I have _no_ idea where the hell this thing is in the chamber. But I do know that I'm getting _real_ bored with the lack of action around here, and I'm tempted to... spice things up if you catch my drift. We both know I'm not above murder, and I'm certainly not afraid to put a bullet through her skull if you don't play by the rules."

JJ swallows thickly, breathing going shallow as she tries to figure what Marcy is going to ask of her. "I can't hurt her," she says quietly, painfully. Her stomach twists in knots the more she thinks about Marcy's implications.

"I'm not stupid enough to hand you the gun," Marcy replies dryly. "Besides, I'll be watching you two cry about it over the next couple days if I force you to fight. What's the fun in that? No, I'm not asking you to do anything physical, Blondie. Don't you worry your pretty head about that. I just want to push you both in the right direction, make things more tense between the two of you and just maybe things will get more exciting."

She shakes her head with a lopsided grin before it drops from her face, weighing her hand heavily as she heaves the gun in the air slightly. "I got a single bullet loaded in this gun. The only thing that's stopping me from putting it between her eyes is you. So, what are you willing to admit to save her?"

If Marcy Duncan weren't so unpredictable, if JJ didn't think her action would result in Emily being killed on the spot, she would have laughed in the woman's face. "You want me to tell secrets? You're serious?"

"Oh, I'm very serious. And not just _any_ secrets, Blondie," Marcy corrects with a grin. "Tell me something that you would never have said to her before. Convince _us both_ just how much you care about her." At the agent's look of disbelief, Marcy shrugs and digs around in her pocket. "Or I can kill her right here, right now."

The casual nature she says the statement has the blonde's blood run cold. There was no hesitation there. Marcy didn't stumble over her words. The look in her eyes was blank, remorseless. She was willing to kill Emily without even a second thought and it was _terrifying._

JJ _does_ stumbles on her words, gasping sharply. No, no, wait!" she says quickly, just managing to stop herself from reaching out towards Marcy. "Wait, please. I'll do it. Just... please," she chokes on a soft sob.

Marcy smirks at her, pulling her hand from her pocket before steadily aiming the gun over at Emily. "Well, go on. Look over there and convince her you care. Remember, you might only have one chance, so you better make it good."

JJ swallows thickly, shakily when she meets Emily's gaze. For a long time, she's silent, shaking as tears stream down her face. Her mouth opens and closes, her injured hand cradled protectively into her chest. "I went after Doyle," she admits finally, her voice choking on a whisper. "After I left you in Paris. I tracked him down on my own. I found him holding a low profile as a factory worker in Amsterdam. Before I could get a raid ordered, I lost track of him. He completely disappeared under the radar. I didn't see him again until Derek and Penelope found him in Virginia."

She sees the way Emily's eyes soften, the slight, confused frown etched on her brow. She swallows audibly, balling her good hand into a fist against the ground. "When Elle was shot, she was so mad at everyone because she felt we didn't fight hard enough for her. One of us should have gone home with her, or offered her to spend the night with one of us. I spent years replaying that night over and over again in my head, thinking how I should have went home with her, how I should have done better to protect her and how she had every _right_ to be so angry at us."

She stifles a sob by biting down on her lip. "I wanted to find him before he could ever find out the truth about you or before he could hurt you again. I failed Elle and I didn't want you to feel like I failed you, too."

Before Emily can respond, Marcy cuts her off with a hum. "Okay, okay, that was good, Blondie. But was it enough to convince me?" She shrugs, effortlessly aiming the fun back at Emily's head. "I don't think so."

She pulls the trigger before either of them can react.

_Click._

Empty.

Marcy grins at the two, JJ still frozen in horror beside her. "Well, would you look at that, Jennifer. It looks like you've got another shot at this after all." She leans towards the blonde, smile only growing when she flinches. "Better make it good," Marcy sing-songs with a smirk.

"I—" JJ licks her lips nervously, her heart racing in her ears. She feels like she's on the brink of a panic attack. She's trembling now, her whole body spazzing in full body tremors. Her heart feels like it leapt up into her throat. She clenches her fingers on her injured arm, wincing as she does so. But the pain helps her focus on Emily, on keeping her _safe_ and _alive_.

"I hallucinated you," she blurts out through a gasp. "Back when I was being tortured by Askari and Hastings." Her throat constricts painfully at the memory. "They... He had just water boarded me, hosed me down with ice cold water and electrocuted me. They took Matt out of the room and left me there on the floor. It was so cold and everything _hurt_ terribly and I just wanted to give _up_ so badly..."

She wipes at her face with the back of her hand. "I... You came in the room and caressed my cheek, my hair. Everything about it seemed so _real._ I heard _your_ voice, saw _your_ eyes, and for a moment, I thought... I thought you were really there."

She caresses her injured arm again. "Until you told me to give up. I knew right then and there it was Matt. But even seeing you for a few seconds, I knew that Hotch would call you. Hallucinating you gave me the courage to hold on just a _bit_ longer because I just _knew_ that if I was in danger, you would come for me. It wasn't Will that kept me fighting, it was you."

No warning this time.

 _Click_.

Marcy chuckles, blowing a stream of air out between her lips with a grin. "Ooh, another chance. It must be your lucky day, Agent Prentiss. I would say the odds are in your favor, but..." She trails off with another grin.

Slowly, she kneels down beside JJ and leans towards her. "Now, I think you can do better than that, Blondie. What sort of secrets are you holding back from her, huh?" She waves the gun teasingly in front of the blonde's face. "Two empty chambers, still four more left. I bet Emily's not too fond of those odds."

She pauses to glance over at Emily, playfully waving her fingers over towards the other agent. "Unless you have an arsenal of secrets and the bullet is in the very last chamber, I'd get talking, Blondie. I don't know about you, but the odds of either of those being the case is slim to none. So, cut the bullshit and give me something really _good._ Tell me the way you _truly_ feel about her. Better make it quick. Personally, I wouldn't bet against the crazy bitch with a loaded gun and absolutely nothing to lose."

There's a long, heavy silence.

"Tick. Tock," Marcy murmurs, bopping the gun around side to side slowly.

JJ tearfully meets Emily's gaze, shoulders hunched in utter defeat.

"I love you," she sobs softly. "I've always loved you."

She swallows hard, digging her nails into her palms. "I never told you because I've always been so afraid of admitting it to you, to myself. And even when I admitted it to myself, it always seemed too late to tell you because of Will and the kids." She curls her injured arm around her stomach, tears falling from her cheek and onto the floor. "I was going to tell you in Miami. I was already so crazy about you even back then... Will and I hadn't seen each other in months because I ended things when I realized just how much I cared about you. I wanted to tell you so many times down there, but I chickened out each time. And when you pushed me to go for Will, I thought that it was never meant to be. So, I went back to him."

The blonde turns her head away in shame. "Being with him was always so _easy._ No one ever asked questions. Everyone just accepted it. But I never loved him like you." Her chest clenches painfully with guilt. "I tried to convince myself I was happy with him, that I really did love him as much as he loved me. For a while, it worked. And then Afghanistan happened and my kidnapping... I was so _tired_ of lying to myself."

Her voice has dropped to a meek whisper. "When you came back, I knew I couldn't keep up the charade with Will anymore. It wasn't fair to me, it wasn't fair to the kids, and it certainly wasn't fair to keep dragging Will along if all I could think about when I was with him was you."

She dares to lift her head back over at the older woman, whose expression is unreadable to her. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you even after the divorce. I didn't want to scare you off, or make you feel like you were a rebound. You've always been so much more than that to me. You're way too important to lose, and I would have rather had you in my life as my friend than not in my life at all."

A fresh new wave of tears flows from her eyes. "I'm sorry."

There's another long silence minus the hiccuping breaths that come from the sobbing blonde. She stares hopelessly over at Emily, wishing that she could take every word she had just said and retract them. She had just completely ruined their friendship, she's sure of it.

But Emily gets to live, she's safe and, really, that's all JJ had wanted.

Slowly, a grin forms on Marcy's face. She lays a hand slowly on JJ's shoulder, snapping both agents back to reality. A sharp whistle is blown through her teeth as she shakes her head and laughs. "Now _that_ is what I'm talking about! Straight to the fucking _point_!"

JJ flinches, shrugging Marcy's hand off her shoulder and bringing her other arm around her chest.

It just makes the woman laugh even more. "Really! You have got it _bad_ my friend!" Marcy whistles with a grin, laughing as she stands up with her head still shaking. "It's really just... too bad you didn't listen when I warned you a few days ago about caring so much about each other..."

It takes both women a few seconds to realize what Marcy Duncan means.

The game they had played was never intended for the agents to come out a winner. No matter what JJ would have said, one of them would end up dead. Because she needed to spice things up on _her_ terms. She was going to kill one of them so that the other's resolve would completely disintegrate, or give them the fight she was looking for.

They both glance up at the woman, who stands in the middle of the room with an amused smirk as her true intentions dawn on them. Marcy pops out the chamber to the gun, spinning it slowly so that the one loaded is positioned at the forefront of the barrel. "And now that I know just how much you care, Blondie, maybe I'll just spare her and kill you instead." She shrugs with a smile as she pops the chamber back in. "Hey, at least you got all that off your chest, huh?"

"Kill me!" Emily speaks up just as Marcy trains the gun up against JJ's head. "Take me," she insists as the deranged woman slowly smiles over at her. "Please. She has children. She deserves the chance to see them again."

"No," JJ gasps between her sobs. "Emily, you can't do this!"

"And you can? What about your boys?" Emily snaps at the blonde, turning her head up towards Marcy. "I have less to lose. If you have to kill one of us, kill me."

JJ winces at the reminder, swallowing thickly as she sobs. "I _need_ you," she croaks to Emily. "Please don't do this."

"Well, at this point, I don't really give a shit who the hell dies! But if you insist!" Marcy says in exasperation, raising the gun up towards Emily.

_Bang!_

JJ flinches, reaching out towards Emily, expecting the older agent to slam back against the ground. Instead, she remains where she is with her mouth open in shock, but unharmed.

Marcy Duncan crumples to the ground, a tiny bullet hole trickling blood from her forehead.

Dead.

Thomas stands in the doorway with one of the agent's confiscated weapons, trembling with wide eyes brimming with tears. "No," he chokes out, shakily setting the gun on the ground and raising his own hands in surrender. "No more killing. It stops now."

No one makes a move for a very long time, not even when there's a distant shout of, "FBI!" Suddenly, the rest of the team is there, swarming the room.

Rossi goes towards Marcy, placing two fingers against her pulse point and confirming what everyone else already knows. Alvez secures both guns carefully. Simmons has Thomas in handcuffs, worriedly looking at the two captured agents. Tara kneels beside Emily, concern written all over her face as she gently reaches out for the unit chief.

JJ flinches when Reid lays a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes are glazed over, her body absolutely wrecked with aches and pains. Her heart fucking feels like it's been through 13 rounds in a ring with Muhammad Ali and shattered into a million pieces. Her head is swarming with a whirlwind of thoughts, completely unfocused on every single one of them all together. She shivers, though she is not cold.

She barely hears what Reid is saying as her eyes follow the EMTs that carry Emily on a stretcher out of the room. Reid slowly removes his hand from her shoulder, staring at her with puppy dog eyes. Rossi comes over and leads the youngest member of the team from JJ, giving her some space.

She remains frozen on the ground.

She only comes to when a blanket is carefully draped around her shoulders. She glances up tiredly at Luke, who offers her an understanding look. And, even if there's no chemistry between them other than friends, she falls and sobs openly in his arms.

"Come on," he says quietly, carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she wobbles her way to her feet. He's patient with her, allowing her to rest most of her weight against him as he leads her away from the room that had become her own personal version of hell. "Let's get you out of here." 


	6. vi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UwU fin.

She's cleared within six hours of being admitted into the hospital. She's placed on an IV as soon as she's loaded into the ambulance to replenish vital fluids and to rehydrate. A quick scan the doctors perform turns up no serious injuries besides her sprained wrist, which they place in a sling so her movements of the joint are limited. The head nurse informs her she can have it off in a few weeks and to take it easy for the time being.

She talks to her boys over FaceTime, which brings the first real smile in days to her face. Both boys show high concern for "Mommy's booboo" but she manages to convince them that she's really okay. She has to swallow hard to keep herself from crying when they say that they miss her. She swears that she'll be home soon, and that when she does, they all can spend a few days doing all the things they love to do. She keeps reminding them how much she loves them, spending the last five minute of their call promising them that she'll be home soon and that she can't wait to see them again.

Reid gets her some food from a local fast food joint after she ends the call, which she mindlessly picks at in the waiting room. She ends up eating a few fries to keep him from worrying too much, but she honestly doesn't even feel all that hungry. Her stomach is still painfully clenched with guilt, her mind replaying what happened in that room over and over again.

The youngest member of the team hasn't left her side since she was admitted to the hospital. He made sure she drank _at least_ two bottles of water (one which she is still nursing on) and somehow managed to convince her to eat some trail mix (she gives him the raisins) from the vending machine before he went out for the greasy fast food.

She loves this man like a little brother, sees him as such but the more he talks, the more she wants to be left alone. As much as she cares for Spence, would normally find his concern endearing, she's overwhelmed with so much emotion that he ends up coming across as extremely overbearing.

It's exhausting to deal with.

Luke must have noticed; he and Reid had both stayed behind at the hospital to ensure both women were okay. He sees JJ's jaw clenched, her shoulders stiff like a bow pulled taut, somehow _knows_ the woman is teetering on the edge of breaking. He walks over and gently places a hand on Reid's shoulder, convincing him go back and see Emily.

She feels like a huge weight has been lifted from her chest when Reid is gone from the room.

Luke sits in silence with her. He doesn't make her eat, he doesn't force her to drink any water and he _doesn't_ look at her with overwhelmingly sad puppy eyes that beg her to let him in. His company is enough, a familiar warm face and calm demeanor that seems to effortlessly roll from him and calm her nerves.

"She's dead," he tells her after almost twenty minutes of silence. "Duncan," he elaborates more softly when she jumps at the sound of his voice.

She clutches her sling close to her chest, staring at the clock on the wall. "I know," she finally replies after a long pause.

"Emily's not hurt badly, though," he continues softly, watching her reaction carefully. "The doctors want to keep her overnight to monitor her concussion, make sure she didn't injure anything again from the car crash she was in a few weeks ago, but she'll be out by tomorrow."

JJ tiredly runs a hand through her hair, turning to Luke to shoot him a glare. The last thing she wants to do is talk.

"She wants to see you," he adds before she can snap at him.

This freezes JJ in her tracks, her expression going blank. She bunches her fingers in the sling into a fist, wincing as she does so. She stuffs another fry in her mouth and takes her time to chew it, unsure of how to respond.

"Someone needs to stay the night with her. I figured I'd let Reid go back and see her before we head back to the hotel for the night and meet up with you guys again in the morning," Luke continues, finally looking away from her to a clock on the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Figure it would be good for you both to talk. No one else will understand exactly what you went through like she will."

She just nods once in response, nervously chewing on her lip. She's not expecting anything good to come out of a talk with Emily. In fact, she's expecting to leave Washington state tomorrow without someone to call a best friend. She's expecting to be treated as just another coworker. Civil to each other in the office and maybe a conversation here and there at team gatherings.

No more late night talks, no more girls nights, no more secrets shared between them, no more soft interactions. No more of what they used to have.

The thought nearly sends her into a spiral.

By the time Reid comes to lead her to the room Emily's in, her heart feels like it's in her throat. She cradles her sling protectively to stop her hands from trembling, staring at the ground the entire time.

He stops her a few feet away from the door, looking at her worriedly. He looks like he wants to say _a lot_ , but holds himself back, as if he finally understands she's at her limit. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks over at her with his wide, sad puppy eyes. "Are you going to be okay?"

It's a dumb question to ask her, really, but hearing the genuine concern in Spence's voice stops her from going off on him. It's such a _Spencer_ question to ask, one that he doesn't quite think over before it leaves his lips but one that lets her know that he _cares._ It's so hard to stay irritated at his concern when it comes so honestly.

Suddenly, she feels a bit guilty for how she reacted to it in the waiting room.

She forces a small smile on her face. "I'll be fine for the night, Spence," she says as genuinely as she can muster. "Really. If it makes you feel any better, I promise to eat something else before I go to sleep."

He seems eased at this, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

Wordlessly, she pulls him into a tight, one armed hug. It says everything she wants to tell him, lets him know how grateful she is for him.

Reid tenses initially, yelping something about her arm, before giving in and wrapping his arms carefully around her frame.

"I appreciate having you in my life, Spence," she murmurs. "I don't tell you that enough."

"You don't have to," he replies softly. "I already know." He pauses. "I appreciate having you in mine, too."

She pulls from the hug, squeezing his bicep gratefully before giving him a small smile. He gives her hand a much softer squeeze before leaving her alone in the hallway.

JJ watches after him until he disappears around the corner, turning to the room Emily's in with a nervous lip bite. She wishes Reid would have stayed longer, but she knows she can't keep delaying the inevitable. With her head hung low and a defeated haunch to her shoulders, she finds the courage to peek into the room.

Emily's eyes meet hers and JJ's surprised to see no malice, no accusatory glares, no hint of judgement or betrayal. Instead, Emily's eyes are warm and inviting, light up as soon as they see the blonde in the doorway. "JJ," she breathes in relief, a genuine smile forming on her face. "Hey."

Her reaction is enough to lift some tension from JJ's shoulders as she steps fully into the room. "Hey, yourself," she greets softly, unable to stop the hitch in her breath when she gets a good look at the older woman.

She's hooked up to a few IVs. Her stitches have been replaced. Her lower lip clear of blood and looks to have been glued shut where it had been slit. The bruise around her eye is more significant and a brilliant purple. Her bed is propped up, a tray pulled across the bed holds an empty container of applesauce with a plastic spoon sticking from it.

"They think I bruised a rib here during the struggle at the house." Emily pauses to point to her side with a shrug. "Really, it's not as serious as it looks," she dismisses with a faint wave of her hand, making a face."Nothing serious enough for all of this machinery, anyway."

She pokes the empty container of applesauce with the plastic spoon, frowning at it as if it personally offended her. "And all they'll let me eat this bland applesauce. Reid tried to sneak me in something, but they caught him and said I could wait for breakfast in the morning. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate hospitals?"

The rant brings a small smile to JJ's face. "Once or twice," she manages to tease, finally feeling bold enough to go over and take the chair by the brunette's side. It's a comfortable thing, soft and plush. There's even a little lever on the side that would allow her to recline if she decides to.

"Yeah, well I _really_ hate hospitals," Emily states firmly, laying her head back against the pillow and turning towards the blonde. "How long are you in the sling for?"

"Out of commission for a few weeks," JJ says, lifting up her arm slightly. "It's a shame it's the hand I shoot with, too."

Emily smiles wryly, "Looks like you and me are staying away from the field for the time being. I might consider letting Tara take the reigns until I'm cleared again." Her tone gets serious now, expression softer. "How are the boys?"

JJ sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly. "They're okay. Worried about my arm, but excited to see me again. I think I'm going to take the week off once we get back just to spend time with them."

"Good," Emily replies genuinely with a nod. "You deserve a break."

"So do you," JJ reminds her.

Emily smiles again. "Ah, don't worry, I'm taking it off, too. I'm going back to Dr. Chambers, which is a shame. She's great, don't get me wrong. It's just unfortunate because I had just finished with my last session with her before this case. I'm trying to be her favorite patient by the end of the year, I guess."

"Are you kidding? The BAU is full of some of her most frequent patients," JJ jokes lightly. "It'd be a shame if one of us _weren't_ her favorite."

"Definitely aiming for that spot," Emily grins.

"Therapy and kids," JJ muses in amusement.

"Sounds like a solid schedule to me," Emily hums with a chuckle. Wordlessly, she offers her hand to JJ, who takes it without hesitation. She breathes out a content sigh when Emily links their fingers together. It's comfortable, it's familiar, it's something she was so _afraid_ of losing. Having Emily again this easily was comforting.

Normal.

An easy, comfortable silence falls between them.

"Can I ask you something? And you'll promise to be honest with me?" Emily asks finally, softly as her thumb slowly runs across the knuckle of JJ's pointer finger. At the hesitance that flashes on the blonde's face, she flashes a reassuring smile. "It's nothing bad."

Another brief hesitation before JJ slowly nods. She stares at their interlocked hands instead of meeting Emily's steady gaze.

"Did you mean what you said back there?"

JJ swallows audibly. "Yeah. I really went after Doyle after Paris and I really did hallucinate you when—"

"Jennifer," Emily cuts her off gently, giving her hand a squeeze. "That's not what I'm asking about and you know it."

JJ feels tears spring to her eyes, their hands becoming blurry blobs as they flood her vision. "Of course I meant it," she whispers meekly after a long pause. "Mean it," she corrects after a moment. "I just never wanted you to know."

She expects Emily's hand to slip from hers, almost sinks back defeatedly in the chair when it does.

She certainly doesn't expect soft, cold fingers gently brushing away her tears so carefully, so lovingly. She doesn't expect the soothing softness of Emily's voice to coo reassuringly to her, or for Emily to gently caress her face.

"Hey... Jennifer, look at me," the brunette murmurs softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her cheeks. "Do you remember what I told you? About Scratch?" she wonders when the younger agents watery eyes flick up to hers.

JJ nods tearfully.

Emily swallows. "It was you. He used you against me," she quietly admits. "That night I rescued you from the rooftop... He somehow knew things he shouldn't have like blackbird and..." She drops her gaze with a hard sigh before pausing.

"Instead of... taking you down to Morgan and Reid after I pulled you up," she begins slowly. "I... You almost kissed me. And then asked me where Hotch was. Well, Scratch did."

She chews on her lip, stalling. "It scared me because... I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted it to be _real_. And I had no idea why. Not then anyway. Scratch somehow knew what I felt about about you before I could ever admit it to myself and used it against me."

JJ frowns in confusion, swallowing hard as she stares back at Emily. "What does that mean?"

"It means I love you, too, you beautiful goof," the older woman chastises affectionately, finally looking back at the blonde. "I always have. It just took me a bit longer to figure that out."

JJ feels like she can't breathe, her heart pounding excitedly. She feels dizzy, giddy. She's almost tempted to ask Emily to pinch her to make sure that this isn't some post traumatic stress induced fever dream. "That's why you were acting so weird the past few weeks," she breathes out in realization.

Emily looks ashamed at this. "I never meant to treat you so badly. I was so confused about my own feelings, tried to rationalize them in any other way. And I didn't want to lose you," she admits. "I was just... so scared of my own feelings coming out around you and ruining everything we have. I didn't even imagine in a million years you would ever feel the same way."

JJ is at a complete loss for words, her mouth opening and closing as she gaps for the right words that never seem to form. She breathes out a chuckle, shaking her hand as she begins to laugh, tears streaming down her face.

Emily looks at her like she's lost her goddamn mind. And maybe in a way, JJ thinks, maybe she _had._ "JJ?" the brunette asks cautiously, tentatively reaching out towards the younger woman.

"What the _hell_ have we been doing to each other?" JJ sobs incredulously, palm splayed out as if to exaggerate how utterly _ridiculous_ this situation is. "We have been torturing ourselves for _so_ long when we were both too ignorant to see what has been in front of us this whole time!"

Emily's lips turn up in a small smile, an amused snicker falling from her lips. "Yeah, I guess we have, huh?"

"If Penelope were here, she'd tease us mercilessly for being such useless gays," JJ half chuckles, have sniffles.

The older woman laughs fully, resting her head back against the pillow with a disbelieving snort. "I can't believe it. For a couple of profilers, we're really not all that bright when it comes to dealing with our own feelings and emotions."

"Useless gays," JJ reiterates with a shake of her head. She relaxes back in her chair, rolling her eyes playfully. "It doesn't help we're both stubborn as hell," she chuckles in disbelief, closing her eyes as the chair rocks with her movement.

"Yeah, I'll say," Emily scoffs with a smirk, turning on her side to face the younger woman. "So, what do we do about it?" she asks softly, quietly.

JJ opens her eyes at this question, has to swallow to keep herself from flushing because suddenly Emily's face is _so_ close to hers. She can see the gold flecks in her eyes, feel her warm breath against her face. Her lips, though chapped and with the split on the lower left side, have never looked more inviting than they do right now. The fingers of her free hand come up to gently caress Emily's jaw, thumb just ghosting below her lower lip.

She doesn't say anything as she leans in.

Their first kiss is a timid peck, the blonde testing their waters. Emily leans into the feeling, almost caresses her chin as she pulls the blonde back in for a proper kiss.

Emily's lips are soft and warm, mold perfectly against hers in a way Will's never did. She tastes of applesauce and a flavor JJ would only describe as so uniquely _Emily_. Kissing her made JJ feel like someone who had been wondering aimlessly in a desert who had stumbled across an oasis paradise. There was no cliche sparks when their lips met, but a bombardment of _fireworks_. It was _addicting_ , a drug that, now she's tried it once, she never wants to quit.

She's reluctant to pull away, but eventually does when her need for air becomes too much to ignore. Her face stays close to Emily's, her fingers playing with the baby hairs at the base of the brunette's neck. Emily's fingers are gently pressed against her face, the pads of her fingers tracing her jaw, her cupids bow, her lips.

"Well, shit," Emily finally murmurs breathlessly. "How the hell can I turn that down?" she teases.

"You can't," JJ insists softly, eyes glinting playfully. "Guess you're stuck with me."

Emily pulls her in for another brief kiss. "I wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
